Gratitude
by Raletha
Summary: [Solace timeline] Trowa and Wufei share coffee. Set episode 8 or 9 (friendshippy 3&5 - canon, drama, short fic, friendship, mild language)


Gratitude 

By Raletha

  


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**Disclaimer**: Gundam Wing does not belong to me. It is copyrighted to Bandai, Sunrise, and the Sotsu agency. I am using the characters for entertainment purposes only. Original content and concepts, however, are my own: © Raletha January 2004 & beyond.

**Pairings**: none, friendshippy 3&5

**Rating**: PG

**Content**: canon, drama, short fic, friendship, mild language

**Summary**: Trowa and Wufei share coffee. Set ~episode 8 or 9

**Notes**: Solace timeline perhaps. Written for the livejournal community gw500. This is my first attempt writing Wufei's POV. I decided to embellish a canon scene since it's often easier to connect the dots than to draw freehand. ^_^ 

**Thanks**: Mephisto Waltz for the discussions of Wufei's character. It helps!

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The circus campus on Earth surrounded Wufei with its foreign noise and chaos, its colour and exuberance. He'd been sitting in silence with his rescuer cum comrade for the past few hours. The other pilot--Trowa, as he'd heard him called--had just exchanged words with a slim red headed girl. She'd brought them food, but Wufei hadn't attended to their brief conversation beyond that. He returned to his contemplation of the fire about which he and Trowa sat, but his attention was soon diverted when Trowa spoke. 

"It's probably not the best." Trowa passed a tin cup to Wufei. "But it's hot." 

He accepted the offered cup. The smell wafting up from it was strong and acrid, thus he stared at the black liquid without any intention of drinking the bitter brew. He stared into it until his eyes unfocused. He stared until he saw the black of space, the black of her eyes, the black stain of dishonour. 

Wufei's fist clenched against the scalding metal of the cup, and he welcomed the pain. It was the least he deserved for his recent failure. Fresh anger crested within him, but he gritted his teeth against an overt display. Around this other pilot's calm, it seemed wholly wrong. Still the shame of his defeat burned hot beneath his skull. The heat of the fire, the heat of the cup, the heat of his anger stifled and threatened. At last he spoke when he could no longer continue saying nothing, forcing his words to be even. 

Even so, they cracked over his utterance, "I don't think I'm up to this job." He turned to Trowa, entreating some accommodating response. 

"I see..." said Trowa and continued staring into the fire, but his spoken words were not dismissive in their delivery. Wufei waited for him to continue--even hoped he would. 

"Thank you," he offered belatedly after Trowa made no other overture of conversation. The casual expression of gratitude dropped stiffly from lips grown unaccustomed to such pleasantries. 

Trowa nodded slowly once in acknowledgement, and the ambient sounds of the circus encampment blanketed their silence once more. 

Wufei stared at Trowa. Trowa stared at the fire. The fire cracked and flickered. 

_Don't you know how to have a conversation? What the hell is wrong with you?_ Irritated, Wufei was about to demand either, but Trowa interrupted that intention. 

"What is it you're wanting from me? Sympathy, comfort, understanding... what?" Trowa spoke so softly, Wufei had to lean closer to catch his words. 

Abrupt words and a blink of astonishment followed. Wufei sat back. "You're the one who brought me here," he snapped. 

He thought the other pilot smiled faintly, but it could have been a trick of the light. Trowa's features still appeared immovable--carved of stone--despite their placidity. But soap stone perhaps, rather than granite. 

Trowa sipped at his drink, unperturbed, before he responded. "Regret is a waste of energy. It's a weakness in a soldier--it makes you indecisive, fearing every action you take now might haunt you later. If you can't get over that, you're probably right, you're not up to this job." 

"_What?_ You-!" Wufei clenched his jaw and pinched his eyes shut for a moment to belay more angry words. Trowa had helped him; he deserved a modicum of courtesy for that. 

And as his pause allowed meaning and implication to adhere to Trowa's words, Wufei realised that it might not have been what he wanted to hear, but it was perhaps what he needed. 

"Thank you," he said for the second time, and this time he felt it. 

**the end**


End file.
